


White Christmas

by Destiyell



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Christmas, Christmas AU, Christmas Fluff, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Grumpy Dean, M/M, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5525168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiyell/pseuds/Destiyell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't like Christmas-it's as simple as that. But with Sam constantly bringing the holiday up, and Castiel leaving him gifts all over the bunker, it's hard for him to just ignore it. He's sure he can get through without dealing with anything Christmas related, but, you know what they say: 'Tis the season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Christmas

 

“I’m just saying, it might be nice to have an actual Christmas this year.”

Dean sighs, even though he’d barely been paying attention to Sam’s rambling for the past five minutes. “Why?” He asks, obviously getting annoyed. “Why would that be a good idea?”

Sam shrugs, watching as Dean places ingredients on the counter for some type of sandwich. “Because we haven’t had one in so long.”

“Since I was dying, yeah.” Dean says, maybe a little too harshly. “That’s a fantastic memory.”

Sam sighs, and Dean turns away from the kitchen counter to face him. He looks like someone just kicked his puppy, and it _almost_ makes Dean regret what he’s said. Almost.

“Look, Sammy. I really just don’t see the point. Before, I wanted Christmas because I thought it would be my last. But now I see that _any_ day could be our last, so it doesn’t matter.” He explains, sounding tired. “We don’t exactly make the most of every day, so why bother for a stupid holiday?”

He makes himself turn away from Sam’s suddenly pained expression, and it’s quiet between them for a minute.

“Cas has never had a real Christmas.” Sam speaks up, breaking the silence. Dean turns to give him a look, because, did he really have to play the _Cas_ card?

Still, he acts like it doesn’t affect him. Because it doesn’t, obviously. “So? He’s an Angel; he knows what it is.” He says, as if that makes a difference. Sam doesn’t look impressed. “Besides, they probably don’t even like Christmas up in Heaven. It’s a birthday party for the guy God ditched them for.”

Sam opens his mouth to reply, but doesn’t end up getting the chance.

“Actually,” Castiel says, appearing out of nowhere and making Dean jump, “We do celebrate Christmas. Just not in the same way as humans.”

“So, no gifts?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No. I’m not even sure what would qualify as a good gift for an ethereal being.”

“See?” Dean says, looking toward Sam. “No. Point.”

Sam glances between his brother and Castiel, and then just rolls his eyes. “Fine. We won’t celebrate. Sorry for bringing it up.”

After Sam leaves the kitchen, Dean goes back to making a sandwich. Castiel stands by and watches him with mild interest, not saying anything for a while.

The silence eventually gets to Dean. He looks up at Castiel, mildly frustrated.

“What, Cas?”

Castiel shifts, looking around the kitchen. His eyes eventually land back on Dean, and he shrugs lightly. “Why don’t you want Christmas?”

Dean raises an eyebrow, and then nearly glares.

“Oh, not you, too.” He grumbles. “Because I just don’t, alright? That’s all there is to it.”

“Okay.” Castiel answers, simply. Dean takes a forceful bite of his sandwich. He moves away to grab a drink, and when he turns back around, Castiel is gone.

 

******

 

A few hours later, Sam is busy researching something while Dean takes to enjoying his ‘day off’. Sam hasn’t really talked to Dean since that morning, and Dean thinks he’s being overdramatic. It’s not like Dean absolutely _hates_ the holidays. He’s not Scrooge, or the Grinch, or whatever.

Still, it’s not often that he can just grab a beer and sit on the couch all day. So he decides to enjoy it, despite what his brother thinks. He goes to the kitchen to get said beer, and Castiel is standing there as if he’d never left.

“Dean. I brought you something.” He says, as if that explains his sudden reappearance.

Dean stands in the doorway, arms crossed. “What is it? More beer, hopefully?”

Castiel frowns, glancing at the counter to his right. Dean follows his gaze, and finds a pie sitting there. Before he can even wonder aloud how he hadn’t noticed it before, Castiel’s wings flutter and he’s gone.

 

 *******

Dean definitely _isn’t_ watching Christmas movies the next time Castiel shows up. If he’d accidentally hit the remote and changed the channel to _A Christmas Story,_ well, that’s not his problem. Still, he rushes to turn it off as soon as Castiel is standing in front of him. It’s been a couple of days since he’s been around, and for the millionth time Dean wonders where the hell he goes all the time.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel says, as is his usual greeting. Dean sighs, sitting up more on the couch.

“Hey, Cas. What’s up?”

Castiel tilts his head, and for a second Dean’s sure he’s gonna say _the sky._ But then he pulls something out of his pocket and holds it out to Dean.

It’s a piece of paper, as far as Dean can tell. He makes no move to grab it, and instead looks up at Castiel. It’s weird to be looking _up_ at him, so he stands after a moment. “What is it?”

“Not beer.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, obviously. Not pie, either.”

Castiel sighs. “Just take it.” He says, pushing it into Dean’s hands.

Dean takes the paper, still looking at Castiel wearily. He’s half watching to show his confusion; half watching to make sure Castiel doesn’t suddenly disappear. He eventually has to look down at the paper in his hands. He flips it over and discovers a card, with the words ‘Merry Christmas’ written neatly across the top. Underneath, there’s a picture of a tree with a star on top; presents drawn underneath. He opens the card and finds a simple note inside:

_Dean,_

_I understand you don’t enjoy Christmas, but I would still like you to have a good day. Merry Christmas._

_Castiel_

Well, it’s definitely short and sweet. Dean glances up to find Castiel staring back at him just the way he _always_ does, as if this is all totally normal. Dean clears his throat, not really sure what else he’s supposed to do in this situation.

“Um. Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel smiles, and nods his head once. “Anything for you, Dean.”

Dean makes a face, and looks back down at the card. “Did you make this?”

“Yes. I’ve heard that making gifts is more thoughtful than simply buying them. I apologize for giving it so early.”

“Right. What’d you get Sam?”

It’s quiet in the room for a moment, so Dean tilts his head back up to see Castiel frowning. “What’s wrong?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I haven’t decided what to get Sam yet. I am working on it, though.”

Dean nods, trying not to think about how Castiel made him a card, yet he has to think about what to get Sam. Why not make them both cards?

“I could help you figure it out, if you want. Even though I’m not into the whole Christmas thing.”

“No, thank you.” Castiel says, shaking his head again. “I’m sure I will be able to handle it.”

“Okay.” Dean shrugs, sticking his own gift into his pocket. “So, anyway, where do you go all the time?”

There’s a flutter, and Dean’s left alone in the room.

 ***

A few days go by without any sight of Castiel, and Dean is almost starting to worry. If it weren’t for the pies, cans of beer and other random things that keep showing up around the bunker, he might think Castiel has completely disappeared. Sam finds Dean eating a new pie nearly every day, and always looks confused when he wanders around the bunker and discovers other little gifts. So far, none of them have been for Sam. Dean thinks it’s odd, but doesn’t comment.

Dean’s halfway through an apple pie when Sam walks into the kitchen, and stops dead in his tracks.

“Dean?”

Dean looks up, fork still in his mouth. “Whaap?” He mumbles, to which Sam rolls his eyes.

“Finish eating before you talk. What are you doing up already?”

Dean makes a face, but listens to Sam and actually swallows his food before answering. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s before ten o’clock and you’re already awake, eating breakfast.” Sam explains. “Where’d you get that, anyway?”

Dean looks down at his pie, which is more or less just a pile of crushed apples and broken crust. He wishes he had another one.

“Don’t know.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

Dean shakes his head. Obviously he has a pretty good idea of where all the stuff is coming from, but for some reason he doesn’t want to say so out loud. “Nope. They just keep popping up.”

Sam carefully takes a seat across from Dean at the table. He looks at the mangled pie as if it’s going to jump up and try to eat _him_ , and then his gaze goes back to his brother.

“So, you’ve just been eating food that shows up out of nowhere, with no explanation?”

Dean nods. “Yup.”

Sam heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t you think that’s kind of dangerous?”

“Dangerous?” Dean echoes, laughing. “It’s _pie_ , Sam.”

Dean’s sure that unless he chokes on pie, it will never harm him. Sam doesn’t look as convinced.

“Well, yeah. But in our lives, when has anything like this ever been a _good_ sign?”

Okay, so Sam has a point. Dean shrugs, shoving another forkful of pie into his mouth. Sam looks momentarily disgusted.

“They’re frowm Casth.” He finally says, voice muffled by the food in his mouth.

“Huh?”

Dean rolls his eyes, and makes the effort to swallow his bite of pie before trying again. “They’re from Cas.”

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up comically again. Dean wonders how many times he’s going to do that.

“All of them?”

Another nod. “Yeah.”

Sam is quiet for a moment, glancing around the room. There are four other empty pie plates sitting in the sink, along with more beer cans than he’s willing to count. On one of the counters, there’s a bag of Gummy Bears with Dean’s name scrawled out on it in marker.

He looks back at Dean, who’s managed to finish the rest of the pie in the amount of time it took Sam to look around. “Gummy Bears?”

Dean shrugs, looking sheepish. “They were my favorite when we were kids.”

Sam doesn’t mention that Castiel shouldn’t know that already. “So he got you all this stuff? Why?”

Again, Dean looks almost embarrassed as he avoids Sam’s gaze. Sam just narrows his eyes.

“He said something about Christmas. I told him I hate it, but that’s gotta be the only explanation for all of this.” He gestures around the room, and Sam takes another look as well.

Then he starts laughing. Dean’s head snaps back to face him, and he glares.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Sam says, standing up from his chair. Dean follows the movement, looking suspicious. “It’s just amazing how oblivious you are.”

“Oblivious to what?”

Sam shrugs, and turns to leave the room. Dean can hear his footsteps echoing down the hall.

“Oblivious to _what_ , Sammy!”

His calls go unanswered, and he’s not in the mood to run after Sam. So he just leans back in his seat and enjoys the feeling you get right after an amazing meal.

 ****

“Sam, if you touch the radio _one_ _more time_ , I’ll push you out of the car.” 

“Come on, Dean, Christmas music isn’t that bad.”

Dean glares at Sam pointedly as he reaches over to change the station for the fifth time.  They’re driving home after a particularly annoying hunt, and all Dean wants to do is shower and go to sleep. Listening to crappy music isn’t exactly on his agenda.

“It should be outlawed.” He says, and Sam rolls his eyes. Dean vaguely wonders how many times it’ll take him to do that before his eyes just stay in the back of his head.

“Since when do you follow the law, anyway?”

Dean ignores the question in favor of turning the volume up on the radio.

“Driver picks the music, Sammy. That’s how it’s always been, and always will be.”

“You let Cas pick the music like, two weeks ago.”

Dean shifts in his seat, and shakes his head. “He has a better music taste than you. Deal with it.”

Sam gives him one of those faces that says _you’re an idiot_ , but Dean elects to ignore it.

“Anyway, about Christmas…”

“No. Sam, I said no already.”

Sam groans, leaning his head back. “Why? You already _got_ gifts. Why not give some, too?”

Dean sighs, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “What do you want, Sam? You want us to pretend like our lives are normal for once? You wanna stick Cas on top of a friggin tree and sing Christmas carols?”

“Why would I sit on top of a tree?” Castiel asks, and Dean almost drives _into_ a tree.

“You have to stop doing that, buddy.”

Sam is too busy laughing to even care that they could have died.

Castiel does that thing where he tilts his head and looks like a confused puppy. Dean tries to focus on the road.

“Dean was referring to Christmas, Cas.” Sam offers, still fighting off a bit of laughter. Castiel nods, looking serious.

“Have you decided to celebrate?”

“No.” Dean says, at the same time Sam says, “Maybe.”

They both glare at each other, and Castiel leans forward in his seat. His head is now way too close to Dean’s, and he almost swerves the car again.

“Anyway. I heard you got Dean some gifts.”

Castiel glances at Sam and nods again. Dean thinks they’ve both forgotten he’s even there.

“I got you a gift as well. I learned it’s customary.”

Sam looks mildly surprised as Castiel hands him a small package, and even Dean has to look over at them. He’s curious, that’s all.

When Sam manages to unwrap the gift and pulls out headphones, he gives Castiel a confused look. Castiel just smiles back, undeterred.

“They are so you can listen to your own music in the car.” He explains. Dean rolls his eyes and looks back at the road. His music is freakin’ _awesome_ , so really, Sam’s gift is depriving him of that luxury.

Sam doesn’t seem to think so.

He laughs and thanks Castiel, turning to give him a proper smile. Dean can’t help thinking his presents were better, anyway. The thought brings a small smile to his face.

 *****

Christmas Eve comes quicker than any of them thought it would. Castiel is missing, as per usual, except this time there are no pies in his place. Dean spends most of his day wandering around the bunker, feeling bored and somewhat disappointed.

“Let’s find a case.” He suggests for the hundredth time.

“No.” Sam says, from where he’s hanging mistletoe. Dean walks by and pulls it down just as he steps away to admire his work.

A little while later, Dean’s sitting at the table in the library, tapping his fingers impatiently against the wood surface.

“What do you think Angels even _do_ on Christmas?”

Sam shrugs, drinking what must be his sixth glass of eggnog. “I don’t know, ask Cas.”

Dean huffs, wishing he _could_ ask Castiel. But he doesn’t want to pray to him for something stupid, so he doesn’t bother trying.

Sam’s been walking around just listening to his stupid music with his new stupid headphones for an _hour_ when Dean finally snaps. He jumps from his chair and gets up, grabbing his keys. He needs to go somewhere; anywhere that isn’t there.

Sam smirks as he watches him leave, and then goes back to hanging mistletoe. They might not be celebrating Christmas, but he does have a few ideas up his sleeve for his brother and Castiel.

 

****

Dean doesn’t miss Castiel. Of course he doesn’t. He just wishes he were around more, that’s all. That’s totally a normal thing for friends. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

He almost prays while he’s driving, but stops himself. He can’t bother Castiel while he’s doing who-knows-what. Still, driving alone is pretty boring, especially when every radio station is playing versions of _All I Want for Christmas is You._

He eventually parks the car, not caring that he’s nearly in the middle of the street. No one is out on Christmas Eve, anyway. No one except him.

Dean steps out of the Impala, and just looks at the sky for a while. The stars twinkle just the way they always do in Kansas, and it makes him think of times when he was just a kid. Unlike Sam, he can vaguely remember Christmas at his house, with his family. It was always a good time, especially since his birthday was soon after. He distinctly remembers his mom giving him a fireman hat one year, and him thinking it was the coolest thing in the world. He remembers his dad teaching him how to play baseball with the new bat and glove he’d been given, and how he’d helped pick out Sam’s first ornament for the tree. It’s hard to believe his life had once seemed almost perfect.

Dean decides he doesn’t _hate_ Christmas. Not in the way he thought he did. When he gets back into his car, it’s with a new kind of determination. He’s made a new decision; that he’s going to fix things one way or another. And what better time to do it than Christmas?

 

 ****

 Despite staying out late, Dean wakes up early the next morning. His first thought is to be annoyed, because he hates mornings. He’d much rather stay in bed, wrapped in the warmth of his blanket for a while longer. He tries and fails to fall back asleep, though, so he begrudgingly grabs his robe and slippers before leaving his room.

Dean shuffles into the kitchen ten minutes later, yawning into his hand. Sam looks up from where he’s seated at the table, already looking fresh and energized. Dean makes a disgusted face as he enters the room.

“It’s too damn early to look so happy.”

Sam takes a sip of whatever he’s drinking from his mug, and shakes his head. “It’s Christmas, don’t be such a scrooge.”

“Humbug.” Dean says, just to piss Sam off. It doesn’t work.

Dean ends up walking to the coffee machine, because as much as he’d like it to, alcohol just doesn’t wake him up. There’s no coffee, however, and he turns to glare at Sam.

“Where’s the coffee?”

“Didn’t make any.”

Dean crosses his arms, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Then what are you drinking?”

“Hot chocolate.” Sam says, not missing a beat. Dean’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. They don’t even own hot chocolate.

“Where did you get-”

“Here,” Castiel says, stepping into the room. And damn, he _needs_ to stop doing that. “I made this for you.”

Dean looks down at the mug in Castiel’s hands. It’s in the shape of a snowman, and Dean can spot little marshmallows floating on the surface of the cocoa. As much as he wants to despise the drink, it smells and looks too good to ignore. He takes it from Castiel, ignoring the way their fingers brush when he does it.

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean grumbles, taking a seat at the table. Castiel smiles while watching him take a sip of the drink. Sam watches them both and sighs heavily. (He thinks it’s gonna be a long day.)

The three of them stay like that for a while, not really talking. Dean would like to ask where the hell Castiel has been for the past week or so, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

Eventually, all of the hot chocolate is gone, and Dean is left with a warm feeling spreading through his body. The cocoa was _good_ ; he has to give Castiel that.

Sam and Castiel are having some conversation about what _really_ happened when Gabriel told Mary she was giving birth to Jesus, and Dean should be interested, but he’s not. He plays with the end of his robe and wonders if his slippers really do make him seem old.

After a while, Sam snaps his fingers in front of Dean’s face. He jumps and looks up, glaring at his brother. “What?”

“Cas just suggested we go outside.” Sam says. Dean looks over to see Castiel, looking a little concerned.

 “Why?”

Castiel shrugs. “I thought it would be nice. Can we go?”

“Fine,” Dean sighs, standing up. “Lemme grab my jacket.”

 ***

They go outside, and nothing spectacular happens. Dean watches the trees sway in the wind, and focuses on keeping dirt out of his slippers. He’d changed into pants and a Henley, at least, but didn’t bother grabbing boots.

“Dean, come here.” Castiel says suddenly, and even though he’s confused, Dean goes. He walks over to where Castiel is standing, right near the front door of the bunker. It’s quiet except for their slow breathing, and Dean feels peaceful for a moment.

And then, it snows.

It starts off like rain-Dean feels a small drop on his nose, and he glances up toward the sky. But it’s not water falling down. It’s white, little flakes of snow.

He continues studying the sky, until the snow picks up a bit. It starts sticking to the ground, and he watches it settle quietly.

“Do you like it?”

Castiel’s voice pulls Dean out of his thoughts, and he glances over at him. “What?”

“The snow.” Castiel gestures around them. “It’s another present.”

Dean goes quiet, looking around them again. His gaze falls back on Castiel’s and he licks his lips, catching a snowflake.

“You did this?”

Castiel nods. “Yes. I knew you wanted snow. You were dreaming about it last night.”

Dean’s about to make some comment about Castiel spying on his dreams, but Sam steps in before he gets a chance.

“So, he was literally _Dreaming of a White Christmas_?” He asks, laughing. Dean punches his arm.

Castiel smiles fondly. “Yes.”

Dean sucks in a breath, looking around yet again. The snow is coming down harder now, but not enough to be annoying. He’s not even shivering in the cold yet, so everything feels just right. For the first time in a while, he’s content.

“Thank you, Cas.” He says, genuinely. “This is awesome.” It’s even better than all of the other gifts Castiel had left over the past few weeks, and the thought makes Dean smile.

“Anything for you, Dean.” Castiel sounds sincere, so Dean believes him. And if his cheeks are red, that’s from the cold, obviously.

“I like the snow, too.” Castiel adds, taking a look at the ground. He kicks some of the snow, smiling gently. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“Dude,” Dean says, stepping closer to him. “You’re an _Angel._ You had to see snow before.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Not like this. Snow is different for Angels, and not too pleasurable, honestly. But this is nice.”

For some reason, Dean laughs at that. He laughs for a long time, until he remembers something important. Without explanation, he runs inside the bunker. He’s back out before Sam or Castiel can even ask where he’s gone, and he holds something out to Castiel.

Castiel looks down at the fabric in confusion. Dean shoves it toward him. “It’s uh, a gift. I didn’t wrap it, because I didn’t have time. But it’s for you.”

Castiel unfolds the shirt, and holds it up. Its flannel, just like shirts he’s seen Sam and Dean wear a million times. He smiles, looking back at Dean.

“I thought you should have one, so I bought that last night. You’re already a Winchester; you have to dress like one.” Dean explains.

Castiel looks like he might cry, so Dean shrugs to brush it off. Sam rolls his eyes somewhere behind them.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean grins right back at Castiel. “No problem. Just uh…now that you’re officially a Winchester, don’t leave so much, alright? We miss you here.”

Castiel nods immediately, feeling almost overwhelmed. It’s a nice emotion, in this case.

“So, you really do like the snow?”

Dean nods, glancing up once more. He notices something green hanging above the bunker door, and turns slightly to give Sam a look. Sam just shakes his head, and Dean can’t help but laugh.

“I love it.” He says, turning back to Castiel and pulling him closer. He leans forward and kisses him, deciding this is the best way to fix things. Castiel kisses back, nearly dropping his new shirt as he grabs onto Dean’s jacket.

Dean sighs contentedly as he pulls back, keeping them so close that their noses touch. When Castiel opens his eyes, he looks happy, so Dean is happy, too.

“Merry Christmas.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! Honestly this didn't turn out remotely the way I wanted it to, but oh well. I hope you enjoyed it anyway; maybe I'll make it longer and fix some stuff someday.  
> Anyway-Merry Christmas! I great gift to me would be comments/kudos :)


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